


up-to-date

by CaptainOfRed



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, M/M, Panic Attacks, Romance, Slow Burn, Subterfuge, Texting, Undercover Angel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21641209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainOfRed/pseuds/CaptainOfRed
Summary: “You work for Valentino, don’t you?”Angel froze. “Yeeeeeah,” he replied, turning to face the grinning Radio Demon. He placed both sets of hands on his hips. “What’s it to ya?”Alastor’s red eyes had that sinister, crackling energy to them. It made Angel’s fur stand on end. “Why, he’s one of my fellow overlords. I like to stay up-to-date with my colleagues.”
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 201
Kudos: 1190





	1. petrifying pink

**Author's Note:**

> first time posting on AO3! i had quite the following on wattpad for my mediocre pirates of the caribbean fanfiction, but now im an older, better writer and im trying out some new fandoms! hazbin hotel is fresh af and im in love with it. here's some radiodust for y'all to enjoy!

Angel was painting his nails (the shade was named _petrifying pink)_ in the lobby, minding his own business, when Alastor approached him. 

“My dear Angel Dust --” Alastor began in his usual pompous fashion. 

Angel interjected with a salacious grin, pausing in his work so he could leer up at the Radio Demon. “In need of my services?”

 _“No,”_ Alastor said firmly, although his perpetual smile didn’t flinch. “I’m here to ask for your help.” 

That was unexpected. Angel screwed the cap onto the nail polish, relaxed into the loveseat he’d claimed, and eyed Alastor suspiciously. “Oh yeah?”

“Indeed.”

Angel glanced around the lobby -- it was just him and the Radio Demon. As it was late in the evening, Charlie and Vaggie had retired to their room and Husk had left the hotel, likely to find a bar where gambling wasn’t prohibited. Angel returned to scrutinizing Alastor. “You don’t even like me,” he pointed out. 

“Maybe not,” Alastor admitted. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not useful.”

Angel let out a bark of laughter, standing and maneuvering around Alastor -- careful not to touch. Angel _could_ be respectful, despite what some people thought. “How could _I_ be useful to _you_ . Unless you’ve changed your mind and _do_ want me to suck your --”

“You work for Valentino, don’t you?”

Angel froze. “Yeeeeeah,” he replied, turning to face the grinning Radio Demon. He placed both sets of hands on his hips. “What’s it to ya?”

Alastor’s red eyes had that sinister, crackling energy to them. It made Angel’s fur stand on end. “Why, he’s one of my fellow overlords. I like to stay up-to-date with my colleagues.”

 _Up-to-date…?_ Angel stared incredulously at Alastor for a moment before he caught on. “You want me to _sell out_ Valentino?” He scowled and whirled around, heading for the door. “No way. I ain’t a fuckin’ idiot. Nice try, hot stuff.”

“Let me know if you reconsider!” Alastor called cheerfully as Angel slammed the door behind him. 

~

Dramatically taking his leave through the front door may have been a bit much, but Angel was due back at the studio anyway. Val got pissy when Angel was away for too long, and Angel was definitely toeing the line of ‘too long’. Angel figured he’d be fine as long as he was quiet entering the studio and finding his way to his room. 

Despite the familiarity of his actions, Angel’s heart still buzzed in his chest as he unlocked the back door and shut it behind him. In more _pleasant_ situations, Angel would find the threat of discovery thrilling; now, it caused his palms to sweat. He tip-toed through the dim hallways of the back rooms, mindful of his extra limbs. 

Finally, his own door was in sight -- the golden plaque adorning it, bearing his name, had a dull shine in the minimal light. Angel released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding as he grabbed the doorknob, shoving the key into the lock. _Made it._

“There you are, Angel Cakes.”

Angel froze at the sound of his pimp’s slippery voice. He turned slowly and met Valentino’s eyes. 

Valentino was missing his absurd red coat but seemed even larger without it. Instead, he wore an ominous smile. “What? No hello for Daddy?”

Angel stared at the ground. “Hi, Daddy.” He said quietly. 

“That’s better.” Valentino smiled, sugary sweet. He sauntered closer. “I didn’t see you around today.”

Angel felt strange; usually, when he saw Val, the overlord was lounging on a velvet couch, a girl on each arm. Usually, the air was choked with dizzying, sweet smoke. Usually, Val wasn’t towering over him, as he did now -- unless Angel had done something wrong. Angel swallowed. “Maybe you didn’t look hard enough.” 

Angel heard the slap before he felt it, jerking his head to the side. “Maybe I didn’t,” Valentino hissed, “or maybe you _weren’t here._ What have I told you, sweetheart?” When Angel didn’t reply quick enough, Valentino seized his face with one hand. “I asked you a question.”

“To stay in the studio,” Angel answered in a rush. 

“I’ve been generous,” Valentino continued, roughly releasing Angel, “letting you continue with this _hotel_ bullshit. It’s brought my business publicity. But you seem to be getting a little comfortable there.” He caressed Angel’s cheek in a false paradigm of affection. Angel restrained a shudder. “Don’t forget who you belong to, Angel.”

“I belong to you,” Angel said automatically, without thinking. 

Val smiled at him. “Good boy.” Angel briefly thought he was off the hook, but another slap nearly stunned Angel into falling over. He stood hunched over, breathing hard, until Val began walking away. 

Angel straightened, finished unlocking his door, and stepped inside. He closed the door and leaned against it, relocking it with a shaking hand. 

_Jeezus, I fucking hate this place,_ Angel thought. “I _hate it here,”_ he said out loud, forcing the words past the lump in his throat. It made him feel a little better. 

Too tired to shoot up or masturbate, Angel changed into his softest pajamas and went to bed. 

~

The next day, Angel didn't dare leave the studio. He threw himself into his work, participating in a few small shoots. Angel truly enjoyed his job. He loved the thrill of power that came from making someone feel _good_. Flaunting his natural assets in a way he’d never been able to while he was alive brought him savage satisfaction. 

Of course, doing what he loved -- being himself -- came with the price of Valentino. 

Reminders of the previous night haunted Angel throughout the day. He thought of things he should have done, _would_ have done if he could go back -- kneeing Val in the balls, for example. 

Around noon, Angel’s hellphone buzzed. He was on break, moodily inspecting his nails (there was _already_ a chip on one of his left hands) so he didn’t hesitate to check his messages. 

_Charlie: I didn’t know you were going out today! I hope you’re alright!_

Angel prepared himself for the usual flicker of annoyance that came from Charlie’s hovering, but it didn’t come. Maybe he was just tired. Maybe he was already so frustrated that another irritant didn’t register. Maybe it just felt good that someone cared. 

_Angel: Don’t worry about me, babe. Won’t be back for a few days tho._

Angel thought for a moment. 

_Angel: Tell Al I’ve got something for him when I come back <3 _

Angel’s heart rate picked up for an entirely different reason. He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. _Up yours, Val._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> imma be real with you, chief -- ive never excelled at speedy updates. but writers like me thrive off of feedback! your kudos and comments will keep me going. thank you for reading!


	2. you've got a deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter two! thanks for your patience -- i'm balancing this on top of school and the rest of my life!

When Angel returned to the hotel, about a week later, he endured Charlie’s enthusiastic welcome with more patience than usual. He was glad to be somewhere where his comings and goings weren’t monitored. 

He wasted no time in making a beeline for Alastor, once he’d located him; the Radio Demon was reading a thick book in one of the numerous sitting rooms. He was unsurprisingly alone; most of the hotel’s (few) residents were (rightfully) terrified of him. Angel agreed Alastor was scary as shit, but Angel found that to be an allure rather than a turn-off. 

Alastor eyed him over the top of the book as he approached, smiling ear-to-ear. “Angel Dust! Charlie told me you wished to speak with me.” 

“Yeah, I do,” Angel said. He dropped into the chair opposite Alastor and folded his arms. “I’ve _reconsidered_ your offer. I’d like to discuss terms with you.”

“Ohoho,” Alastor’s eyes gleamed. He placed a suspiciously red-stained bookmark in his novel and placed it on his lap. _“Terms._ How exciting!”

Angel felt nervous, aware he was making a deal with the most notorious of deal-makers, but he tried not to show it. He puffed out his chest fluff and fixed Alastor with a firm stare. “First of all,” he began, “what kinda information do you want from me?”

“Ohh, anything interesting,” Alastor waved a hand, manifesting his staff-like microphone. He gestured with it as he spoke, punctuating his words. “If Valentino is planning on making any moves on anyone’s territory, if he purchases anything dangerous, if he makes any journeys out of town. Anything that could be helpful to _me.”_

“Uh-huh.” Angel narrowed his eyes. “Why’re you suddenly so interested in Val?”

Alastor grinned. “Why is any overlord interested in another?”

“Fine, be vague,” Angel grumbled. “Anyways, what’s in it for me? How I see it, the only one benefitting here is _you._ I’m stickin’ my neck out, you’re relaxing with --” Angel glanced at the cover of Alastor’s book. _Definitely bloodstained._ “Uh, whatever you’re reading.”

Alastor raised his hands with a sly smile. In his open palms, crisp bills sizzled into existence. 

“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Angel smirked and swiped the cash from Alastor before the Radio Demon could vanish it away. “Keep the cash flowin’, Al, and you got yourself a deal.”

“Agreed!” Alastor exclaimed cheerfully. He rose to his feet and twirled his staff like a drum major. As Angel had witnessed the first day Alastor came to the hotel and offered to help Charlie, a bubble of green magic enveloped them before dissipating into the suddenly-charged air. 

Angel felt mildly tingly -- not unpleasantly so. _“Ooh.”_ He shivered as he stood. “That’s interesting.”

Alastor’s face soured as it usually did when Angel alluded to anything sexual. “Certainly,” the Radio Demon said in a stiff voice. He recovered and seized his book from the table, sweeping past Angel with flair. “Well, I’ll see you around, Angel Dust! I look forward to the _delicious_ gossip you’re going to bring me!”

Two hands on his waist, other pair of arms folded, Angel watched Alastor’s fashionably-tattered tail coat swish as the overlord left. “See ya, handsome,” he said, but he doubted Alastor heard. 

~

Angel filled the remainder of his day with a few lucrative clients and a brief lunch date with Cherri Bomb. He reluctantly neglected to tell her about recent developments concerning his job, despite nearly bursting at the seams with the secret; Angel figured he was sort of an undercover agent now. He couldn’t blow his cover -- even to his best friend. 

Angel returned to the studio in the evening; his pockets heavy, his spirits light. He smiled at his coworkers as he passed them in the hallways, winking at the friendly ones. He intended on heading straight for his room to count his cash and maybe (probably) get high, but as he passed one of the conference rooms, his ears picked up on Val’s voice. The door to Conference Room B was open, a slit of crimson light sneaking into the hallway. 

Heart racing, Angel slipped his phone from his pocket and leaned against the wall, opening his social media and scrolling through. Hopefully, it would look as if he’d simply stopped in the hallway to check his notifications, rather than what it actually was -- eavesdropping. 

“I’m not worried about him,” Valentino was saying dismissively. “He’s too deep in self-interest to assist merely an _associate_.”

“And if you’re wrong?” Angel didn’t recognize the voice of Val’s conversation partner. It was buttery and aristocratic. 

“Then our combined forces will take care of him.” Angel could hear the smirk in Val’s voice.

“Fair enough.” The second voice sighed. “Goodness, is that door open?” 

_Oh shit._ Angel jumped from the wall and booked it down the hall, trying to look natural. He heard the _thud_ of the door closing. Thankfully, no one shouted his name or accused him of spying. 

He scurried into his room and locked the door, then began a mad search for a notepad. He didn’t often write -- he prefered to text or use the note app in his hellphone -- but something told him Alastor would appreciate the more old-fashioned way of recording information. 

Mind buzzing, Angel scrawled down any information he could recall from what he had overheard: Val’s cockiness, the mysterious second voice, and most intriguing of all -- Val’s target, mentioned only as _‘him’._ Angel wished he would have made it to the conference room just a few minutes earlier to catch the name. 

Eager to share his findings, Angel retrieved his hellphone and popped a text to Charlie. 

_Angel: Does Al have a phone?_

It was a few minutes before Charlie responded; keyed up, Angel spent the time looking for the weed he’d stashed somewhere that morning. When his phone finally dinged, Angel rushed to it with a joint clutched between his teeth. 

_Charlie: I’m not sure, since he’s kind of old-fashioned! I know he has a fax machine._

_Charlie: I’m so glad you two are getting along better!! :)_

A _fax machine?_ Angel lit his joint with a frustrated sigh. The studio probably had a fax machine _somewhere_ in a dusty supply room, but he couldn’t use something conspicuous like that without arousing suspicion. 

In order for the arrangement to work, or at least be more effective, Angel needed a better way to communicate with Alastor. 

Angel thought hard for a moment, staring at Charlie’s texts, then grinned. He knew just how to fix the problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> of course some of this won't be canon once more details about the hazbin hotel universe are revealed, but for now, i'm indulging in my own creativity. 
> 
> thank you for your generous feedback! i've never posted on AO3 before, so seeing your comments and kudos is SO validating. <3 stay tuned!


	3. spree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for your patience <3

_ Cherri <3: shut UP  _

_ Cherri <3: picture or it didnt happen !! _

Angel grinned at his phone and obliged, raising his hand to snap a quick photo of the Radio Demon staring intently at the latest hellphone model. 

_ Angel: No shit. He’s hilarious _

“What did you just do?” Alastor shot in his direction, eyes narrowed. “You pointed it at me.”

Angel winked coyly and took another picture. “Just capturing the moment, baby.”

“Goodness, these really do have all sorts of bells and whistles!” Alastor abandoned the displays to look over Angel’s hellphone. “What an excellent image!” He declared as Angel showed him his snapshots. 

Angel’s solution to the problem of communicating with Alastor was simple: the old man needed a phone. It was time for the Radio Demon to catch up with the times. He could barely handle the absurdity of the situation, though -- him, Hell’s A-list porn actor, taking the Radio Demon, one of Hell’s most powerful overlords,  _ phone shopping.  _ The passerby couldn’t believe it, either; Angel and Alastor were the subjects of many whispered conversations and wide-eyed stares as they meandered through the store. 

Alastor grinned menacingly at anyone who stared too long, sending many onlookers scurrying. One particularly brave sinner got a bit too close and Alastor rewarded him with a kick to the shin. Angel had laughed and Alastor had seemed pleased with himself. 

“Well, you’re very photogenic,” Angel said with a wink and a giggle. “Hellphones can do a lot of stuff, but you might not want all that.”

“Whyever not?” Alastor said. He manifested his microphone staff and swung it by his side as he walked. “I should take advantage of all the available technology, shouldn’t I?”

“Well, you could look at it that way.” Angel stopped and gestured to the less complicated phones. “But these would be easier to learn to use.”

Alastor examined the flip phones with interest. “The  _ Granny _ Model?” He murmured. He leaned back and shook his head, smiling with faint amusement. “No, I can’t be seen with one of these. I’m sure I can manage to learn the functions of the other ones.”

Angel shrugged with a grin. “Suit yourself.” He eyed Alastor as they returned to the new, hot technology. “Why haven’t you invested in this crap already? You’re an  _ overlord _ . Shouldn’t you be keeping up with all the new biz?”

Despite being taller than Alastor, Angel felt the distinct sensation he was now being looked down upon. “I have my ways of staying in touch,” Alastor said with an enigmatic smile. “But to answer your question, I simply prefer my outdated ways! But perhaps I haven’t given modern technology enough of a chance.”

“How outdated are you, exactly?” Angel inquired. “When did you die, I mean.”

Alastor weighed a red hellphone in his free hand as he answered. “I died in 1933. Television had barely been invented!”

Angel had grown up in the 30s and died in the 40s, so his family had never owned a television (the technology didn’t become popular until after his death, in the 50s). But as technology progressed in the living world, Hell’s tech scene followed, and Angel had become  _ very  _ fond of his hellphone. He couldn’t imagine living (ha) without it now that he had one. 

“Welcome to the future, Al,” Angel said with a grin. “Do you like that one?”

Alastor’s smile was skeptical, but he nodded. “I suppose it’ll do. What next?”

“Now you need a phone plan.”

“A what?”

~

Step one, select the phone. Step two, select the phone plan. Step three -- learn how to  _ use  _ the phone. 

Angel and Alastor decided to trek to Alastor’s home, the Radio Tower, rather than work out the details of Alastor’s new phone in the middle of the store. 

Angel felt both excited and nervous as the Radio Tower loomed above him. “Why didn’t we jus’ go to the hotel?” He asked, glancing at Alastor. 

“This is closer,” Alastor replied with a smile. “And I have a few things to attend to besides this device.” 

Angel shrugged, folding his arms protectively around his waist. “Works for me.” He felt odd -- usually, visiting an overlord’s home meant he was fucking them. That  _ definitely  _ was not the case here. 

The Radio Tower was ornate and classic-looking, scraping the red sky of Hell with its shining satellite. Alastor merely waved his hand to open the door for Angel, grinning toothily. 

“Oh shit,” escaped Angel. He craned his neck to see the ceiling, then twirled around to admire the architecture. Everything had the feeling of being decades-old and shiny-brand-new at the same time. “Damn, Al -- this is  _ sweet.” _

“Indeed,” Alastor said with a hint of pride. He gestured to the empty front desk. “Usually I have employees bustling about in here, but as today is a weekend, they're taking the day off." Alastor's eyes glimmered mischievously. "I do my own... _ special  _ broadcasts on these days." 

Angel recalled what Vaggie had told him in her chilling monologue:  _ Alastor broadcast his carnage all throughout Hell, just so everyone could witness his ability.  _

Well, she’d also said Alastor was an “unpredictable force of violence”, and yet here Angel was in the Radio Demon’s own home. 

“‘Special’, huh. Is that one of the ‘few things’ you need to attend to?” Angel asked. Their heels clicked against the shiny, checkered floor as they continued through the foyer. 

“I was considering it.” Alastor brushed nonexistent dust from his coat as he stopped them in front of a red door -- the only red door in the hall. The plague adorning the front read  _ Radio Office.  _ “But now I have interesting things to discuss with you!”

“Right,” Angel said, watching with wide eyes as Alastor opened the door with a wave of his hand and swept inside. 

Angel felt a chill creep down his spine as he glanced around  _ the  _ Radio Demon’s office. The wall opposite the door, plastered with the sepia, ikat wallpaper of the 1920s, boasted a long desk laden with shining radio equipment. Various buttons twinkled and cast interesting patterns onto the paneled floor. When Alastor switched the overhead lights on, bathing the room in a golden glow, the right wall was revealed to house a variety of security screens, each providing a different angle on the Radio Tower. 

“I thought you didn’t like the modern tech?” Angel asked, studying the screens as they flickered on.

Alastor joined him, scanning the screens for suspicious activity. “I don’t,” he said. “But the safety of my tower is of utmost importance.” He turned to wink at Angel, whose heart fluttered. “I have to keep up with other overlords, after all!”

“Ah -- uh, of course,” Angel said, flustered. He wished he wasn’t so attracted to powerful men who didn’t return his interest. It was partly how he ended up with Valentino (despite what one might assume, Angel had never slept with Val -- despite his best efforts, at the beginning), and now he was here -- trying to topple Val with  _ another  _ out-of-his-league overlord. “Speaking of that. I’ve got some of that  _ delicious gossip  _ you wanted, if you’re interested in hearing it now.”

"Oh, I am indeed," Alastor said with flair. He waved his staff and with a shimmer of green, two plush leather chairs sprung into existence. "Please take a seat, my dear." 

_ My dear _ . Angel shook his head and sat gingerly, poking the armrest to test if the chair was real. "Manifesting things out of nothing must be a real convenient talent." 

"You could only imagine!" Alastor said with a self-satisfied laugh, taking the other seat. "Now, let's hear that  _ gossip."  _

Angel eagerly retrieved his notes from his chest fluff (Alastor’s eye twitched) and flattened them on his lap. “I was walking through the hallway and passed one of the conference rooms when I heard Val’s voice. He was talking to some posh fucker, but I didn’t recognize his voice.”

“Posh?” Alastor questioned. “Did he have an accent?”

“Sort of English, sort of douchebaggy.” Angel shrugged. 

Alastor nodded, smile frozen in a displeased manner. “Stolas.”

Angel raised an eyebrow, relaxing into the chair and folding his arms. “Who?” 

“He’s another overlord,” Alastor explained. “Although I wasn’t aware he and Valentino were associates. I expected you to tell me Valentino was collaborating with Vox.”

Angel cringed. Vox was a whole different sort of unpleasant. He was also, funnily enough, the only overlord Angel had slept with. “Yeah. Anyway, they were talking about making a hit on someone. Didn’t say the name. Specifically, they were worried one of their target’s male ‘associates’ might be an issue, but Val seemed pretty confident.” Angel scowled. “Then the English douche noticed the open door, so I beat it.”

Alastor seemed pensive, fingers drumming on his armrest. “Interesting. It’s unfortunate you didn’t hear more.” 

“No shit,” Angel said. He flashed a lascivious smile. “Feel lucky you have me at all, hotshot.”

Surprising Angel, Alastor grinned back. After being caught off-guard by Angel’s innuendo-laden humor enough times, the guy seemed to be catching on. “I’m simply  _ brimming  _ with good fortune, recently,” He said. “Hopefully my luck doesn’t run out, and you bring me more information!”

“I’ll drink to that,” Angel said. “Damn, now I want a drink.” 

No sooner had Angel said it than a glass of wine appeared in his hand. He flushed, startled but appreciative. “As you wish,” Alastor said with a smirk, raising his own glass. In his other hand, he waved the crimson hellphone. “Now, show me how to use this thing.”

“As you wish,” Angel echoed with a grin, and they got to work. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you haven't watched helluva boss, do it! stolas, the other overlord discussed in this chapter, is featured in it. 
> 
> thank you for reading, and a BIG thanks if you left kudos and comments! tune in soon for more :)


	4. big, happy idea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry for the wait! i've been SWAMPED with homework. school really blows. thank you to some commenters last chapter who inspired some of this content!

Charlie’s latest big, happy idea for the hotel was the Chore List. The long scroll was posted in every main room, beside most bedroom doors, and in various other places people often frequented. 

“Don’t we have Nifty for this shit?” Husk had asked when Charlie had introduced it. 

“Of course!” Charlie said, glowing with excitement. She glanced down at Nifty with a smile. “You can sign up for chores too, but I’d like the hotel residents to get involved. They can help you, or you can help them. It’ll build character!”

Husk glanced at Angel; Angel blew him a kiss. “I think we’ve got enough _character_ around here already,” he growled. 

Vaggie folded her arms and glared at everyone gathered around. “Well, suck it up,” she declared. “Chore sign-up starts today, and I better see some names on there.”

So that’s how Angel ended up in front of the Chore List in the lobby, squinting at different options and wondering why he was entertaining the notion of participating. 

Well, he knew why he was considering it. He liked Charlie -- her optimism was refreshing and (sometimes) inspiring. Angel knew if he wrote his name down for some bullshit chores, Charlie would be ecstatic. 

He was pulled out of his thoughts by his phone, buzzing against his thigh. He fished it out of his pocket and glanced at his notifications. 

_Alastor: What is Instagram?_

Angel grinned.

_Angel: You’re funny <3 _

_Angel: It’s a social media platform._

_Alastor: How do I get one?_

_Angel: Go to the app store and search for it and download it. The app store is the little shopping cart button._

Alastor didn’t reply, so Angel returned to staring at the Chore List. Feeling motivated, he wrote his name down for dusting the lobby and main hall. 

~

Angel was completing his post-shoot routine, methodically brushing out his fur and listening to quiet music through his headphones, when his hellphone beeped. With a sigh, Angel dropped his pink hairbrush and looked. 

_Instagram: @The_Radio_Demon has requested to follow you._

With a laugh, Angel opened the app, accepted the request (by the way, his follower count was _very_ impressive), and followed back. Then he texted Alastor. 

_Angel: You’re on social media! Welcome to the modern world!_

_Alastor: Thank you, Angel Dust. I’m quickly learning how this thing works. It’s very useful._

Boldly, Angel raised his phone and took a selfie, using his spare hands to throw up peace signs. He grinned to himself as he sent it. 

_Alastor: How charming._

_Alastor: How do I take a picture?_

_Angel: Are you gonna be at the hotel later? I can show you then_

_Alastor: 6 o'clock?_

_Angel: It's a date <3 _

Angel set his phone down and bounced to his feet, hustling down the hall to his room. He needed to change and hurry to the hotel so he could do the dusting -- a clean lobby would probably impress the notoriously neat Radio Demon. 

He was in the middle of choosing between two shirts when there was a knock on his door. Angel wasn’t shy -- he opened the door in his shorts, cocking his hip seductively out of habit. Looking up through his lashes, he finally realized who was at the door. 

“Oh,” Angel said, caught off guard. It was one of Valentino’s one-eyed, leech-like lackeys. He recovered quickly, flashing a sugary smile. “What can I do for you, handsome?” 

The single, green eye narrowed minutely. “Valentino would like to see you.” 

“Well, _I’d_ love to see _him,”_ Angel simpered. “Give me a few seconds to find a shirt and I’ll be right with you.”

With a final toothy grin, Angel shut the door before the cyclops could argue. “Jeez,” he muttered, swiping the pink shirt off of the bed. He grabbed his phone with one arm as he wriggled the other three into his sleeves. 

Taking a deep breath, Angel pasted on another smile and flung the door open. “Lead the way, honey.”

~

Valentino’s lair was located in the basement of the Porn Studio. The stairs, enveloped in pink shag carpet, led to a red-lit hallway Angel and Val’s other constituents referred to as _Val’s hall_. As one crept down the dimly lit passage, even before reaching the door, the sweet-bitter smell of drugs was tangible. Angel had visited Val so frequently in the past he barely noticed the stench. 

The cyclops knocked on the black door upon reaching it. “Enter,” Val called melodically. 

Cyclops opened the door and Angel was met with a wall of smoke. Squinting, Angel waved it away. 

Valentino was lounging on his red fainting couch, a martini in one hand, a girl in the other. He leered at Angel through his tacky, heart-shaped sunglasses, blowing a steady stream of yellow smoke into the air. “Hey, sweetheart,” Val said with a slow smile.

Angel straightened his back. “Hi, daddy.”

“That’s right.” Val murmured. Angel ignored how his stomach turned. “Come here.”

Angel glanced behind him; the Cyclops had left. When Angel turned back to Valentino, the girl had disappeared as well. Heart jumping, Angel stepped forward. 

As soon as he was within Val’s reach, Val’s arms were around Angel’s waist, jerking him into his lap. Angel couldn’t help a tiny gasp; Val chuckled in his ear. “I’ve got a job for you, Angel Cakes,” he whispered. 

Disgruntled, Angel adjusted himself; if he was gonna be manhandled, he might as well get comfortable. “Of course, sir,” Angel replied automatically. 

Val’s boney hand rested on Angel’s hip, thumb making rhythmical circles. He was saying something, but Angel barely registered his pimp’s voice -- he felt himself turning off, retreating somewhere into his mind where he could say _NO._ He wanted to scream it in Valentino’s round, sharp face, carve the words into his skin, paint the words on the walls with Val’s green blood. He felt a revulsion stronger than anything he’d felt in years. 

Having two bosses -- Alastor and Val -- made the differences between the two brilliantly obvious. Alastor was a _choice._ Alastor was a way to regain control. Val was a leash around Angel's neck, choking him. 

He was brought from his reverie by a sharp pinch on his thigh. “Are you listening, Angel Dust?” Valentino hissed. Angel jumped, frantically finding Val’s red eyes. When Angel didn’t respond, he was punished with a hard slap. 

Val stood; Angel went with him, tumbling to the floor. “Get up,” Val demanded. Angel scrambled to comply, but wasn’t fast enough; Val grabbed his arm and jerked him upright. “I’m gonna repeat myself, and you better fucking listen,” Val said, a jagged smile filling his face. “There’s a man who needs your services. His name is Stolas.” Angel recognized the name from his conversations with Alastor -- _that’s the posh guy_ . “After you’ve _fucked_ him, like the whore you are, I need you to steal something from his records room. I’m going to text you the address and the details, since there're so many. _Do you understand?”_

“Yes, daddy.” Angel said to the floor. His mind was buzzing again, but he was thinking of Alastor. 

“I’m glad you understand.” Val grabbed Angel’s face and forced him to meet his eyes. Angel didn’t dare blink. “Don’t forget who you are, sweetheart. You’re mine. And when I’m talking to you, you better listen -- otherwise, you won’t like your punishment. Are we clear?”

“Yes, daddy.” 

“Good.” He released Angel, shoving him backward. Angel nearly lost his balance in his heels. “Get out of my sight.”

If Angel had a tail, it would have been between his legs; he left the room feeling violated and ashamed, chastising himself for not obeying, for being contrary, for not pleasing Val. He stewed in his self-deprecating thoughts, walking on autopilot until he nearly ran into one of his colleagues. 

“Woah, Angie,” she said. 

Angel snapped back to the real world. “Oh jeez, I’m sorry, Hannah,” he said in a rush. 

Hannah Bill squinted at him with her large, clear eyes. “It’s fine. You okay?”

 _Pull yourself together. This isn’t new for you._ “Yeah, sorry, just lost in thought.” He pasted on a smile. “See you around.”

He scurried away before Hannah could say anything else. It was five o’clock.

He had an appointment at six.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hannah bill? hannibal? haha get it
> 
> thank you so much for sticking with this story <3 tune in next time for more ~plot~
> 
> kudos and comments -- especially comments -- seriously keep me going. y'all cant imagine the rush of getting comments on a story until it's happened to you.


	5. it's not my job

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY for the wait. i've thought about this story every day. issue is, i've been swamped with homework and responsibilities. after publishing this, i've got even more things to do! but i'm so happy i had time to carve out this chapter because i'm pleased with how it turned out. enjoy! :)

_The Radio Demon wears cologne. Expensive cologne._ Angel knew this now, since Alastor was leaning over his shoulder, pointing at things curiously on Angel’s phone screen. If Angel turned his head, his nose would end up right in Alastor’s chest. 

Angel searched himself for the giddiness that usually came with close proximity to Alastor, but it was faint beneath the lingering soreness of Valentino’s scolding. 

Val hadn’t always been...like that. He’d been sweet to Angel when the spider dropped into hell, gay and alone and (very) scared. Leaping straight into Val’s service had given Angel protection and _purpose_. But as time went on, and Angel went deeper and deeper -- handling deals, money, stealing for Valentino -- the safety Angel used to enjoy had become something resembling a cage. There were monsters outside and monsters inside. 

Angel was self-aware. It was fucked up that Val could elicit the terrible emotions he did in Angel. It was _really_ fucked up. 

_And I guess that’s why I’m really here._ Angel mused, smelling Alastor’s cologne and answering his questions about how to take a damn selfie. _The money is nice. But Jeezus, I hate Valentino._

“I believe I understand how it works,” Alastor declared suddenly, snapping Angel out of his thoughts.

Angel smiled faintly, then jumped as Alastor suddenly manifested out of the shadows in the chair across from him, phone in hand. “Jeezus, don’t do that. Congrats though -- you’ve caught up to all the hip sinners.”

“Why thank you, my dear,” Alastor’s grin widened. “I’ll utilize my new skills at a later time. Right now, I’m interested in hearing what you learned at the studio.”

 _Huh?_ Angel lifted his chin off of his fist and squinted at Alastor. “How d’you know I learned somethin’?”

“You’ve been acting odder than usual!” Alastor summoned his microphone and leaned on it, wearing his trademark shit-eating grin. “Shaken, tired. I’m _guessing_ you met with Valentino.” 

The ache in Angel’s chest, which had diminished the further away he got from the Porn Studio, sharpened with the strange knife of betrayal. He glared at Alastor. “What the fuck does that mean, Al?”

Alastor raised his hands placatingly. “I merely _observed.”_

Angel was silent, searching for something to say. “It’s none of your _business_ how Valentino -- ugh, nevermind. _Fuck_ you.” Alastor’s grin remained frozen on his pale face. Angel took a deep breath. “Anyways, my next job is Stolas. After I’ve given him a good time I’m supposed to steal some files.” 

Alastor’s eyebrows climbed into his fluffy hairline. “Some files? Did Valentino specify?”

Angel shook his head, crossing his legs and bouncing his foot. He watched it bob up-and-down, suddenly exhausted. “No. He was gonna text me. I’ll forward it to you.”

“Excellent.” Alastor was studying Angel, smile flat. “I apologize. I was insensitive.”

Angel looked up, surprised. A dry chuckle escaped him. “Yeah, thanks.” Without meaning to, Angel suddenly found himself standing. He fixed Alastor with a steady glare. “I’m takin’ a bigass risk for you. So don’t fuck with me. I may be a slut, but --” Angel raised his chin. “I _ain’t stupid._ And I’m not afraid of you.”

Alastor rose to his feet as well. His smile melted into something warmer. “I don’t doubt any of that, Angel Dust.” 

“Well --” Flushed and confused, Angel jabbed a finger in Alastor’s direction. “Good.”

The conversation over, Alastor swept past Angel, twirling his staff in one hand. He hummed cheerfully as he left. 

Angel sat back down. He didn’t feel like humming. It had been a long day. 

~

One cost of living at the Hazbin Hotel was limited access to Angel’s favorite vices. One of those vices, alcohol, tempted him constantly from behind Husk’s bar. Husk, the lucky bastard, could sneak drinks anytime due to his privileged position as bartender. 

But Husk, gambler he was, wasn’t always around in the evening.

Thank God tonight was one of those nights, since Angel needed a drink so bad. He snuck downstairs around midnight, long after Charlie and Vaggie had retired for the night. The lobby was blissfully silent besides the monotonous ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. 

Angel nestled himself behind the bar, tucking all of his limbs in, and set in for a long night of forgetting about everything. 

He scrolled through social media, but that made hate himself more, so he switched to playing mindless clicker games. Eventually, he was too tipsy to clearly see his screen, so he set his hellphone down and let his head knock against the bar behind him. 

The hellphone beeped with a familiar text tone. Angel opened his eyes and looked at it, full of dread. He read the text. 

_Valentino: Here’s the details. Pay attention, Angel baby._

There were more messages to follow, but Angel ignored them with furious desperation. _When this is over, I’m gonna kick your ass,_ he thought at Valentino. _I’m gonna cut your dick off and make you eat it, piece of shit._

“Angel Dust?”

 _“Jeezus!”_ Angel yelped, then bumped his head on the bar. Swearing passionately in Italian, he glared up in the vague direction of the Radio Demon. “Whaz your goddamn problem?”

“I could ask the same of you,” Alastor retorted, sounding amused. In a blink he had joined Angel on the floor, melting out of the shadows. “This isn’t very redeeming, is it?”

“Does it look like I fuckin’ care.” Angel said, words slurring together. “Fuck, I’m drunk. Whadyou want?”

“I came for a drink, same as you,” Alastor replied. “Although I’m now curious about what prompted you into...this.” 

With a scowl, Angel took a swig from the whiskey he’d been determinedly working on. “Do I need a reason?”

“No. But it’s logical to assume there is one.” 

“I just --” Angel glanced at Alastor. After interrupting his pity-party, Angel figured, the overlord deserved to hear Angel’s woes. “D’you ever wish you owned yourself? No, you fuckin’ _don’t._ Cuz you’re not a dumb whore.”

Alastor was silent. Angel took that as a cue to continue. 

“I wish it all the damn time, lately.” Angel said despondently. “I mean -- I like my job, but izz not really _my_ job, izzit? It’s Val’s. An’ I’m jus’ doin’ it for him.”

Alastor nodded. “That’s an interesting take.”

“You’ve never had t’ think about it,” Angel grumbled. “All you damn overlords. Now I gotta fuck one.” He grabbed his phone and shook it in Alastor’s direction. “Val jus’ texted me ‘bout it.”

Neither of them said anything for a long moment. Even the radio feedback that followed Alastor like a shadow seemed softer.

Angel cleared his throat. “Thanks for listening.” He said quietly. 

“Of course,” Alastor said. Angel thought his voice was remarkably clear of static. 

~

Angel woke up to a crimson sunrise. He was curled up in his own (pink) bed, covered by his own (pink) blanket. He had no recollection of getting there. 

He did recall, with remarkable clarity, bearing his soul to the Radio Demon the previous night. And drinking with him, following that period of soul-bearing. Which lead Angel to this logical conclusion: _Alastor carried me to my room. Or voo-dooed me up here._

His next thought was, _that’s weird._ His next-next thought, punctuated by an effulgent warmth in his chest, was, _that’s so sweet._

Then he frowned. _Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments keep me going, especially when i've got so many things on my plate. thank you all for your patience and understanding when it comes to my updates.


	6. like a spider

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS! HAPPY HANUKKAH! my birthday is the 23rd and i got a brand new laptop, so that's what i got to write this on! please enjoy this chapter <3

At least Stolas gave as good as he got. Angel was still mildly breathless as he slipped from the master bedroom, sore in all the right places. 

Angel squinted into the murky shadows of Stolas’ mansion. “Y’sure this is smart?” He whispered.

Alastor’s gleaming red eyes snapped open. The rest of the Radio Demon emerged from the darkness, a smile slicing his face in half. “Of course not, darling.”

“That’s what I like to hear!” Angel playfully nudged Alastor with his shoulder as they fell into step, slinking through the halls as per Valentino’s directions. “Ah, sorry. I’m jus’ excited.”

“Understandably so,” Alastor replied, ears twitching. “Is it a right or left here?”

“Uh,” Angel hummed. He felt through his pockets for his phone. “Uh. Well, I may have dropped my phone in the bedroom.”

“Wonderful.” Alastor opened his palm and his own hellphone popped into existence. “Thank goodness I’m more organized than you.”

“Fuck off, you’ve got magic to organize your shit for you,” Angel scoffed, grinning at his companion. _“Thank goodness_ I forced you into buying that hellphone.”

Alastor met Angel’s gaze, matching his smirk. Those eyes were nothing but devious. Angel couldn’t help but shiver. “I suppose we’re both rather clever.” Alastor said. Then he glanced at his device. “It’s a left. Come on.”

It wasn’t an entirely smooth journey; the pair ran into a few security officers, roaming the mansion with flashlights in hand. Each time, Angel and Alastor, concealed by some shadowy power of Alastor’s, grinned gleefully at each other as the ignorant minions walked straight past them.

 _This_ was the shit Angel missed most: causing trouble with a friend. Or whatever Alastor was to him. After the previous night, Angel wasn’t sure. 

Angel certainly didn’t consider Alastor an employer. No, Angel was _done_ being an employee. Alastor was, at the very least, a partner. Whether he was something more than that remained to be seen. 

Vainly, Angel caught himself wishing for that something _more._ Just an honest friendship, built on a love for chaos, would suffice -- God knew Angel could use more friends. Friendship with the occasional tumble would suit Angel even better, but he wasn’t in the business of getting his hopes up. 

The revelation of his budding crush on the goddamn _Radio Demon_ had been both terrifying and exciting. Terrifying because feelings were often something Angel could only deal with while under the influence. Exciting because those same fluttering feelings in his chest were a welcome change from the heaviness he was accustomed to.

“Here we are,” Alastor murmured suddenly. Lost in thought, Angel nearly ran into the other demon but caught himself just in time. “Shall we stick to what we agreed to? I stand guard, you search?”

“Don’t see why not,” Angel said. “Alright. Gimme ten minutes, tops.”

“Only ten?” Alastor inquired, wearing a relaxed smile as he unlocked the records room with a wave of his hand.

Angel winked. “With eight eyes, I should be able to spot a coupla folders. See ya in ten.”

Angel slipped inside without waiting for Alastor’s response. The dark room was illuminated easily by Angel’s flashlight, and the spider got to work. 

It wasn’t long before Angel found what he was looking for since the room was neatly organized alphabetically. The manilla folder was labeled in smelly black ink, reading _PERSONEL._

Angel tucked the papers under one arm and scooted, whispering at Alastor as he left the records room. “Hiya. How’s my time?”

“Just under ten,” Alastor admitted. “Very impressive, Angel.”

“All in a day’s work,” Angel grinned. “C’mon, this place gives me the creeps.”

They returned the way they came, slithering from shadow to shadow with hardly a sound. Alastor broke the silence. “You have eight eyes? I see two.”

“Eh, they’re sort of eyes,” Angel shrugged. He pointed at the pink eye spots under his larger, more obvious eyes. Most people mistook them for freckles. “They’re not much use. They’re mostly for seeing light, I think. Real spiders have shit eyesight, so I’m glad I’m mostly demon.”

“Interesting,” Alastor said. “Are you like a spider in any other ways?”

Angel felt his face grow warm under Alastor’s interest. Usually, questions about his body pertained to his tits or his ass. “I’ve got eight limbs in total -- I usually keep my other pair of arms hidden away, though. You wouldn’t believe how they get in the way. And I’ve gotta venomous bite. But I can reel it in for work.” Angel hummed, thinking. “And I can jump. _Really_ high. But I don’t usually find reasons to do that.”

Alastor nodded. “Remarkable.”

Angel couldn’t help but smile. “I guess so.” Then he thought of something. “Hey, maybe I should give you the files, then go back to Stolas. Don’t want him suspicious if he finds me gone in the morning.”

“How sage of you!” Alastor agreed. Angel handed over the files. “I will text you after examining these. I’m sure you’re eager to learn their contents.”

“Hell yeah.” They’d reached the hall containing the master bedroom. Angel glanced at it, then stopped. Alastor followed suit. “Hey, uh. Thanks a lot for helping out.”

“It was no trouble!” Alastor beamed. “In fact, I enjoyed myself. Thank _you_ for the opportunity.”

Angel knew he was blushing under his fur. It was unfair that Alastor got to be so cute and so scary at the same time -- it was hot, and Angel was _weak_. “You’re welcome,” he said, returning the smile. “See ya."

They parted ways -- Alastor melted into wherever omniscient demons go, and Angel padded into the master bedroom. 

Angel was as quiet as he could as he got back into bed, but Stolas stirred awake despite his best efforts. “Why _hello,_ beautiful,” the owl murmured as Angel rejoined him. “Is everything alright?”

It was easy as pie to slip back into character. Angel smiled sweetly, curling up beside the overlord. “Of course,” he soothed. “Just needed to, ah, use the facilities.”

Stolas hummed in acknowledgment. “Well, sweet dreams, my dear.” The owl returned to sleep in only a few seconds. 

Angel hid his grin in a pillow, resisting the urge to giggle. It could have been _so_ much worse: Stolas, while clearly a slimy bastard, was a complete gentleman (in addition to being _crazy_ in the sack); Alastor’s offer to join Angel in his subterfuge had been nothing but fun, and Angel was one step closer to fucking up Valentino’s grand plans. 

All-in-all, Val’s shitty assignment had turned into a good night. 

~

Angel didn’t risk checking his phone until he’d departed Stolas’ mansion. The overlord sent him off with a kiss on his hand and a wink. Angel had been charmed by the experience, but you wouldn’t catch him admitting it.

He finally opened his messages once he’d found a taxi. The driver made a number of lewd comments to Angel, but he shut up pretty quick once Angel pulled out a revolver. 

Angel propped up the gun absentmindedly with one hand (the cabbie trembled in his seat) as he read through Alastor’s messages. The Radio Demon had sent them last night, shortly after leaving Angel.

_Alastor: The PERSONEL folder contains a detailed account of the demons in Stolas’ service. This includes serving staff, but mostly foot soldiers._

_Alastor: A few humans are included in this number as well. Very interesting._

_Alastor: If Valentino is truly working with Stolas to usurp another powerful figure, it’s odd for him to steal from Stolas._

Angel frowned, rereading the texts. 

_Angel: Good morning <3 _

_Angel: If you ask me, it seems like Val’s working to usurp more than one overlord._

Alastor’s reply was almost instant. Angel -- a tad dreamily -- wondered if Alastor had been waiting for his response. 

_Alastor: My thoughts exactly, my dear._

Angel sighed with a smile. _My dear._ He shook himself. _Holy shit, I’m pathetic._

_Angel: You at the hotel?_

_Alastor: Yes._

_Alastor: Charlie and I are in the middle of a meeting._

_Angel: I’m on my way there._

Angel bit his lower lip. 

_Angel: If you wanna talk._

_Alastor: I would like nothing more._

“Ah geez,” Angel muttered, a smile splitting his face. 

~

Angel swept into the hotel, light as air, blowing a kiss at the nearest person -- Vaggie. “Why hello, toots,” he greeted. 

“Hey.” Vaggie, cuddled into a cushy chair with her phone, acknowledged him with a nod. “You’re in a good mood.”

“And you’re not, as usual,” Angel retorted with a grin. Vaggie treated him to her middle finger. “Seen Al around?”

“He and Charlie were talking in that room over there.” Vaggie jabbed a thumb over her shoulder. “I’m not sure if they’re done or not.”

“Okay, thanks,” Angel said, brushing past her. 

Vaggie glared as he strolled away but didn’t budge from her nest of blankets. “Don’t interrupt them, asshole.”

Angel decided it wasn’t an interruption if he knocked. “Hiya,” he called. 

There was a long pause. “Come in, Angel,” came Charlie’s voice. 

Angel opened the door and poked his head in. Alastor and Charlie were both seated, facing each other across a card table. Charlie’s usually cheerful smile seemed strained. 

“Hey, you guys talking about me?” He said teasingly. 

Charlie’s gaze flicked to Alastor. The Radio Demon turned and winked at Angel. He said, “Only good things, darling!” 

“Obviously,” Angel said. “Anyways, Al, I’m here for a bit, but I have to be getting back to the studio.”

“Noted. I’ll be with you after this,” Alastor replied, waving goodbye with his microphone stand. Angel blew him a kiss and closed the door as he left. 

He found himself nose-to-nose with Vaggie. “Uh, hi?”

“What’s your deal with Alastor lately?” Vaggie questioned, eyes narrowed. 

Angel glared and stepped around her. “It’s none of your damn business,” he sneered. 

“It is, actually, since you’re a resident here.” Vaggie retorted firmly. “And I don’t trust Alastor as far as I can throw him.”

Angel crossed one pair of arms and placed the other set on his hips. “Then interrogate Al instead.” He turned on his heel. “Why’s everyone always on my dick about where I spend my time? Jeezus.”

Vaggie didn’t say anything else, but Angel had already made up his mind about leaving. His feet drew him into the sitting room he and Al often convened in. 

Angel knew Vaggie meant well -- her interests were always in Charlie's wellbeing and the hotel. But couldn’t Angel have _one_ day where he wasn’t monitored on all sides?

Angel preferred doing the monitoring. Being a double-agent was _far_ more fun than letting Val walk all over him like he was a goddamn welcome mat. 

“My dear Angel Dust!” Alastor announced himself, stepping into the room and filling the air with his presence. “How are you this afternoon?”

“I’m great,” Angel replied, smiling at Alastor as the overlord took a seat. “I’ve got some questions, though.”

“Please, ask away,” Alastor said, leaning on his staff and grinning. 

“Right.” Angel set his jaw. “I’m done being stupid about this stuff. Tell me about the other overlords.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wowie, plot! i'm feeling like this will be like 8 or 9 chapters? idk? we'll see. i hope yall enjoyed! 
> 
> some of you leave the sweetest comments. i just love reading them! thank you for making me smile.


	7. as lovely as you'd imagine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope everyone is having a very happy holiday experience! and if not, i hope this brightens your day.

Alastor’s Instagram was probably one of the most terrifying things Angel had seen. 

Each post was vague and captionless, each image conspicuously red or blurred out. Worse was the sheer amount of followers Alastor had amassed during his short stint on social media. 

_Angel: Alastor, overlord and social media influencer. How’s it feel being good at everything?_

_Alastor: It’s as lovely as you’d imagine, dear Angel._

Angel was back in his room at the Porn Studio, folded up underneath the softest blanket he could find with all the lights on. He smiled at his screen. 

_Angel: Pretty soon you’ll be as big a celebrity as me._

_Alastor: I didn’t realize that was possible!_

“Aw,” Angel whispered, squeezing his eyes shut and hiding a smile. “Ho _lyyy_ shit, I am pathetic.” Vaguely Angel wondered why Alastor was so nice to him, but he decided after some pondering that he didn’t care. 

A muffled voice came from the hall. “Truly, the lighting here is deplorable, Valentino.”

Angel poked his head out from under his blanket, peering at the door. That was Stolas’ buttery voice. 

“I’ve got better things to spend my money on, Stolas.” _Val._

Angel kicked the blanket away and jumped to his feet, shivering as the air hit his skin. He darted to the door, pressing his ear against the wood. 

“Oh, of _course,”_ came Stolas’ voice. “Won’t this room do the trick? I doubt I’ll have to squint to see you in this one.”

“You bastard. Fine, this one.”

Heart racing, Angel quietly opened his door and slipped into the hallway. Maybe this would be the time he heard something really valuable. 

~

_“There are seven of us,” Alastor said, smiling wide. “Myself, Rosie, Valentino, Vox, Stolas, Lucifer, and Lillith.”_

_“Rosie?”_

_“Of the seven of us, I believe she is the ‘weakest’, for lack of a better word. She runs a drug emporium.” At Angel’s raised eyebrow, Alastor continued. “She’s likely the source of whatever drugs you’ve enjoyed in the past.”_

_“So she’s a_ mega _dealer,” Angel mused. “Why’s that make her the weakest?”_

_Alastor shrugged. “She holds less territory and she doesn’t have many abilities aside from being infinitely clever. She’s a very good businesswoman, and that’s how she’s gotten so far.” Alastor flicked his bangs out of his red eyes, smiling with a hint of pride. “In addition to some help from me.”_

~

Angel pressed close to the sealed door of the conference room, straining his ears. 

“Well, Valentino? Are you prepared for this weekend?”

“Oh yeah.” Angel could practically _see_ Val -- reclining, nose in the air, smile dripping with arrogance. Blunt in hand, green smoke whirling above his head like a twisted halo. “I should ask you the same.” 

Stolas chuckled. “I was prepared the day you came to me. I have been resting my own powers in preparation, though.” A pause. “I hope you won’t disappoint me, Valentino, after all of this _buildup.”_

A chair creaked. Angel knew Val was leaning forward, looking over his pink glasses with a razor-sharp smile. “Trust me, Stolas; she won’t know what hit her.”

~

_“You’ve worked with her?” Angel was surprised. “I pegged you as an ‘I work alone’, stoic and tsundere type.”_

_Alastor laughed. “‘Tsundere’? Really, Angel.”_

_Angel grinned, resting his cheek on his fist. “If I was writing a book about you, that’s how I’d describe you.”_

_“Noted.” Alastor shook his head, smile on the soft side. As soft as his splitting grin could be. “Yes, Rosie and I have worked together before. Many times, in fact. I suppose I would consider her a friend.”_

~

_She._

Angel’s mind raced. Val wouldn’t go after Lillith. Only a fool would risk the wrath of the king and queen of Hell -- and Valentino was no fool. 

“Rosie,” Angel whispered, heart full of dread. 

“Angel Dust?”

Angel squeaked, whipping around. One of Val’s lackeys: wispy and black, with a single orange eye -- trained directly on Angel. 

“Hi, uh --” Angel said loudly. “Hey,” he tried again, sultry. 

The cyclops’ eye was thin with suspicion. “What are you doing?”

Blood roared in Angel’s ears. “I --” he began haltingly, back pressed against the door. 

The door snapped open and Angel nearly fell in. He caught himself, whirling around so fast he got whiplash. It was Val -- towering and thin and draped in pink. “Angel Dust.” The overlord smiled slowly, eyes flickering firetruck red.

Angel tried to take deep breaths. _Oh God. Holy shit._ “Hi Val,” he choked out. 

Stolas appeared over Val’s shoulder. “What do we have here?” He murmured. 

“He was eavesdropping, sir.” Angel jumped, glancing over his shoulder -- he’d forgotten about the cyclops. 

“Was he?” Val crossed his arms and looked down his nose. “Were you, Angel Baby? You wouldn’t eavesdrop on your daddy, would you? After I’ve been so good to you?”

_After I’ve been so good to you._

~

_Angel swallowed. He decided to go for it._

_“You’ve got friends besides me?”_

_Alastor tilted his head. His expression didn’t falter. “Does that surprise you?”_

_“Y’know, like I said --”_

_“I’m the ‘tsundere’ type.” Al paused, gaze raking over Angel. Angel felt as though he was being searched. “I suppose I have room for two friends. Just two!” A wink._

_Angel breathed a happy sigh of relief. “You’re really somethin’, Al,” he said without really meaning to._   
  


~

_So good to you._

Angel saw fucking red. 

He heard Val’s screech before he tasted his pimp’s blood -- Angel’s venomous incisors sunk into Valentino’s arm and ripped away fabric and skin. Angel was halfway down the hallway before he realized there was _meat_ in his mouth. Angel spat it out, feeling sick, but there was no time for that. 

Angel had never run this fast in his life. He darted past his coworkers, who called his name; he leaped six feet in the air to clear an employee carrying a stack of papers. His phone wasn’t in his pocket. _Where is my phone._ He’d left it in his room in his haste. _Okay. Plan B, Plan B…_

Got it. _Supply room. Fax machine. Go._

There were alarms blaring. Red lights flashed. Angel was so full of adrenaline he could barely hear, let alone see. He burst through shoots, knocked over paperwork, and didn’t bother saying sorry. 

_I AM DONE APOLOGIZING._

Angel skidded around corners. He ducked under cameras. He was crying, he was laughing. He was terrified. He was joyful. 

_I AM MYSELF._

The dusty-ass supply rooms. Angel kicked in a door, scrambled inside, and slammed it shut. 

“Ohgodohgodohgod,” He gasped, falling against a wall. His chest was heaving. 

_Fax machine. How do you send a fax? Oh god. Fuck. I’m so worthless. I disappointed Val. Shut up. Fax machine._

The machine was buried under boxes and folders. Angel tossed them aside. “Oh god.” He stared in dismay at the buttons. His hands found their way into his hair. “Oh fuck.” Angel kicked the machine and yelped. He gasped for air. “Dumb _whore!”_ Angel shrieked, squeezing his eyes shut. 

_Fax machine. Alastor._

There were pricks of pain on his scalp where he was yanking his hair out. It cleared his head. Angel looked at the buttons again. 

I need to hit the on switch. Okay. It’s on. The screen is flickering. I need paper. I knocked some on the ground. Pencil, pen. Fuck I only type anymore. My handwriting is shit. Pen. Here. Write. _It’s Rosie. I’m caught. Thank you for this opportunity._ Oh fuck. Oh geez. I’m gonna die anyway. _If I see you again, let me buy you a drink._ Okay. Okay. I put this here. Face up. I need a goddamn fax number. Holy shit I have no idea what that is. Okay. Let’s try that. 

~

 _“Am I? I really think you’re_ something _as well, Angel.” Studio laughter._

_“You’re kind of a jackass, y’know.”_

_“I’m something_ and _a jackass! Lucky me!” Alastor cackled into his microphone. “We have a comedy show tonight, my dear listeners!” Al wiggled his eyebrows. “With a hint of_ drama, _perhaps?”_

_“You callin’ me dramatic? You’re the one acting straight out of a 40s radio show.”_

_“I’m not_ that _old, my dear.”_

~

 _1933_. Maybe. Okay. Press send. Sending. Scanning. Whatever. Go faster. 

_Bang!_ Angel whipped around, pulling his arms into his body. The door was shaking underneath someone’s heavy blows. 

“Angel Dust!” Val sang. Then his voice turned rough like nails on a chalkboard. “You fucking _bitch,_ open this goddamn door. You fucking _traitorous whore._ Maybe Daddy will be kind if you come out here _right fucking now.”_

Angel’s eyes filled with fresh tears. 

_FUCK YOU._

“Fuck off!” Angel yelled, turning to face the machine. He wiped his face. _Sent_ . Okay. Taking my original document. Tearing it to _shreds_.

“You fucking _bitch!”_ Valentino roared. “You goddamn stupid _slut!”_

The door burst open. Angel flung himself behind a pile of -- _something,_ and tried not to hyperventilate. 

Light flooded the room. Angel winced, trying to make himself as small as possible. _I’m going to die. Again. Holy shit._

He could hear Val’s labored breathing. “Where are you, Angel Cakes?” Valentino whispered. 

Angel felt more tears. They tightened his throat like a noose. He held them in, ignoring the pain. Val was pacing the room, steps uneven. _Oh yeah._ Angel licked his teeth, tasting something bitter. _I fuckin’ poisoned him._

“There’s only one way out of this room,” Val said, louder. “And even if you make it out, Stolas is at the end of the hallway. And he can turn your organs inside out, baby. Just by lifting a finger.”

Oh shit. Well, that was unpleasant news. 

Angel thought of his night with Stolas. The owl had been polite, treated him well during their tussle, and had walked him to the door the morning after. He’d kissed his hand. He hadn’t called Angel a slut or a _whore._

Angel thought of Alastor -- undemanding, taking only what Angel was able to offer. Angel was stuck in this fucking room because of his own errors. He hadn’t been ordered or chased here by Alastor’s deal.

Val’s shadow was creeping closer. Angel set his jaw and shimmied away, eyes on the exit.

“I won’t hurt your pretty face, Angel,” Val cooed breathlessly. “I’ll just break a finger or two. You’ve got plenty, after all. I’ll still have use for you after this, don’t you worry. You can still come home to Daddy.”

Angel shuddered, feeling nauseous. Val was coming around the corner. _Now._

Angel shot to his feet, brandishing a revolver in each hand. “You’ve made a big mistake, Valentino,” he hissed. 

Angel Dust opened fire.

~

_Angel reluctantly stood. “I’ve gotta get to the studio before it gets dark or --” Angel flushed. “Well, Val won’t be happy. I’m on thin ice as is.”_

_Alastor stood too. “Well, be careful on that ice, my dear.”_

_“Thanks, Al.” Angel smiled. “Thanks for answering my questions.”_

_Alastor looped his arm through one of Angel’s and tugged him toward the door. Angel tried to control himself. “Why of course! It wouldn’t do to keep you in the dark.”_

_Angel left the hotel wearing a smile. He looked at the ground -- dusty and red. Not icy. But Angel was careful nonetheless._

~

Green blood soared through the air, splattering the fax machine and the assorted knick-knacks the studio had tossed aside. Valentino’s scream rang in Angel’s ears. 

Panting, Angel scrammed -- he spun into the hall and glanced in both directions. People were staring -- Angel was painted with blood and wielding several big guns.

Stolas stood above the various actors, eyes gleaming. 

“Ah geez,” Angel whispered and took off again. He tucked away his guns and ducked into the next hallway, feeling a terrible sense of deja vu. 

He ran smack dab into someone’s chest. Angel gasped and flailed backward, stomach dropping through the floor. “Holy shit, be quiet please I’m so sorry _OHMYGOD.”_

Angel stared incredulously into Alastor’s electric eyes. The overlord stared right back, smiling bemusedly. 

_“What_ are you doing here?” Angel demanded in a whisper, grabbing Alastor’s sleeve and jerking him into a side room. “Holy fuck, Al, God I almost died.” Angel breathed harshly and leaned against the wall. His vision swam. “I’m gonna die. He’s gonna kill me.”

“Angel. Angel Dust.”

“Oh god --” Angel couldn’t breathe. _I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe._

Someone was gently holding his upper right arm, rubbing circles. Someone was stroking his hair. _Al is stroking my hair. Ah fuck._

Angel told himself sternly to calm down. It took several deep, difficult breaths, but soon Angel was able to look Alastor in the eye. 

Alastor’s muted grin brightened. “I got your fax.”

“Thank fuck,” Angel sighed. He closed his eyes. Al’s hand fell to his face, wiping away a spot of green. “Rosie has until this weekend. Maybe longer, since I --”

“Why hello, Alastor.”

Stolas was smiling in the doorway both Angel and Alastor had forgotten to close. 

Alastor was deadly silent. Purposefully, he stepped in front of Angel. His microphone stand sizzled into his palm with a pop of lime.

“Hello, Stolas. You’re as punctual as ever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no idea how to send a fax.
> 
> i gave myself shivers writing this! i hope i've got yall on the edge of your seats! lemme know how this chapter made you feel in the comments. stay tuned~


	8. to heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's all, folks! this will be the last chapter. please enjoy!

“Hello, Stolas. You’re as punctual as ever.”

Alastor was lit like a satellite, red hair frazzled with static. The tails of his coat were fluttering, despite the lack of wind, and he seemed taller than he’d ever been before. It was terrifying. 

It was also very sexy. Even on the tail end of a panic attack, Angel couldn’t help but notice. 

“Why thank you, Alastor,” Stolas drawled. _“You’re_ as invested in useless projects _as ever.”_ His crimson gaze flitted to Angel Dust and he smiled slowly. “Don’t take that to heart, my dear.”

Angel swallowed, hugging his arms to his chest. “Uh, yeah. No offense taken.”

“Those useless projects have gotten me rather far, don’t you think?” Alastor’s voice crackled like paper. 

“One could argue.” Stolas tilted his head, considering the strange pair of Alastor and Angel with amusement. “Now, what to do with you? You’ve put a significant kink in my plans, Angel dear.”

Angel set his jaw. Clenching his fists, he stepped out from behind Alastor. “I fuckin’ hope so.”

Stolas’ hand drifted into the air. A red glow enveloped his fingers. “I should do away with you quickly, before Val catches up and decides to punish you. That would be kind of me, hm?”

Alastor tapped his staff against the floor. “Would that be wise, Stolas?”

 _Val._ With a rush, Angel remembered something. 

“I stole some files from you,” Angel said quickly. Both overlords’ attention snapped to him. “While I was at your, uh, estate. Your staffing records.” He raised his chin. “Cuz Val ordered me to.”

Stolas grinned, then pouted theatrically. “That’s a creative story.”

Angel scowled. “It’s not a _story.”_ He glanced desperately at Alastor. “Al, didn’t you make copies?”

“I certainly did!” Alastor opened his palm and the crisp copies appeared with a quiet _pop._ Studio laughter peppered his next words. “They were quite _illuminating.”_

Stolas’ smile had faded to be replaced by a cold, flat line. “I’m sure.” He said. The owl glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, look who it is.”

Stolas stepped into the hall, beckoning for Alastor and Angel to join. Alastor practically bounced through the door. Angel followed more cautiously. 

Angel gasped quietly; it was Valentino, white as a sheet, holding himself together with pure rage and spite. The overlord was breathing so raggedly the sound seemed to fill the hall. Blood dripped from various bullet wounds. He held himself up with the wall, grimacing with every movement. 

Alastor laughed and nudged Angel playfully. “Your talent knows no boundaries, darling.”

Angel was staring, unsure of what to feel. He decided after a brief deliberation to _smile._

“Hello, Valentino!” Stolas said cheerfully. He ruffled his feathers. “I’ve just learned something _so_ interesting. I simply _must_ share.”

Val looked up at him hopelessly. He opened his mouth and closed it, wincing heavily. 

“That’s what I thought you’d say,” Stolas growled. Angel glanced at him, surprised. “You are a backstabbing _louse,_ my friend.” Without preamble, Stolas swept forward and placed a well-deserved kick in Val’s midsection. Valentino crumbled with a groan. His sunglasses fell from his nose, clacking on the green-smeared floor.

Stolas finished by grinding his heel into the back of Val’s head. “Do what you like with him,” Stolas tossed over his shoulder to Angel. “God knows you have more grievances with him than I do.” He looked at Alastor. “Tell Rosie she can keep her emporium. I’ve lost interest.”

Alastor, looking less and less like he’d stuck his fingers into an electric socket, smiled and nodded cheerfully. “I’ll pass it along.”

Stolas smiled and snapped his fingers. With a flash of red, he had disappeared. 

“Well, Angel?” Alastor prompted. 

Angel glanced at Alastor, then back to Val, groaning on the floor. There were figures at the end of the hall, whispering and pointing. 

_I owe them a show,_ Angel thought maliciously.

“Hi, Daddy,” Angel said. He sauntered forward and leaned down, peering into Val’s face. His pimp glared back. “Haven’t I been so _good_ to you? I think you deserve something _special.”_

Val spat blood. He rasped, “You’ll always be a stupid _whore,_ Angel.”

Angel rose to his feet. He knew he couldn’t kill Valentino. Only a _real_ angel could do that. But he could cause permanent damage. 

It was the easiest thing Angel had ever done to shoot Val right between the eyes.

~

_You’ll always be a stupid whore._

Angel contemplated Val’s words as he gazed over the hotel grounds. It was simple enough to crawl out his window and scale the building to reach the roof -- eight limbs were good for something. Angel had used the roof as a secluded place to get high or wasted plenty of times in the past, but he wasn’t interested in that today. 

Angel supposed he’d always be a whore, in some shape or form, no matter what he did now -- his past would always be imprinted on the internet and media like a black tattoo. 

_Or a_ pink _tattoo._ Angel critically examined his chipped nail polish. He’d never got around to painting them again. _Petrifying pink._

“Angel Dust?”

Angel scowled, throwing a middle finger over his shoulder. “No, Vaggie, I am _not_ getting high, so calm your tits.”

“That’s not why I’m up here,” Vaggie muttered, sounding chagrined. She took a seat beside Angel, following his gaze -- all of Hell was spread out beneath them, bathed in a scarlet sunrise. “I came to apologize, actually.”

Angel snorted. “Mmkay, bitch.”

Vaggie huffed through her nose. “I was wrong to interrogate you about your friendship with Alastor.” She sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Angel gazed at her for a minute, then offered her a small smile. “Was that hard?”

She sniffed. “Yeah, actually.” Vaggie tapped her fingers on the roofing tiles. “You caused quite a stir today.”

Angel’s fluffy chest swelled with pride. “I guess I did.”

“What are you gonna do now?”

“I dunno. I’m done being someone’s whore.” Angel turned to Vaggie. “Wait, how’d you know I was up here?”

Vaggie flushed. “Alastor told me. And I like the roof, too. I come up here sometimes to cool down.”

“So you’re up here a lot, then?” Angel grinned. “C’mon, don’t look at me like that.”

Vaggie continued to wear a sour expression, but she spoke cordially. “Is Alastor gonna take over for Val?”

“God no. He doesn’t want anything to do with a porn studio.” Angel shifted nervously. “He, uh, wants to talk business about it. I think he’s gonna tell me _I_ should run the studio.”

“Oh shit,” Vaggie said, surprised. She thought for a moment, then nodded. “That seems fitting, though, doesn’t it? You took down Valentino, after all. Plus you’re the pride and joy of the industry.”

Angel looked at his feet. “I dunno. I’ve never...run anything.”

Vaggie tapped his shoulder. He met her pink gaze. Her face was set seriously. “I think you’d be good at it.”

Angel stared at her suspiciously. “You don’ even like me,” he said, then remembered when he’d told Alastor the same thing. “Why’re you tellin’ me this?”

“I’m just being _honest._ I can stop if you want.”

“Oh no, keep going.” Angel smiled. “Thanks, Vaggie. Remember how amazing I am next time I piss you off, kay?”

Vaggie smiled back. It looked better on her than her usual scowl, Angel thought. “I’ll try.”

~

_Alastor: The media is abuzz! I was assaulted by 666 News on my way to the Radio Tower this afternoon._

_Angel: Did you set em straight?_

_Alastor: Of course._

_Alastor: I’ll be at the hotel this evening._

_Angel: Is that an invitation?_

_Alastor: You owe me a drink._

~

“The lobby looks spotless, Angel!” Charlie exclaimed, joining him at the bar. “I’m so glad you’re taking the Chore List to heart!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Angel sipped his wine. “Figured Nifty works hard enough."

Husk grunted. “Difference is, she _enjoys_ it.”

“I like my job, and even _I_ need a break every once and a while,” Angel said with a suggestive grin. Husk shook his head and sighed. 

“Speaking of that.” Charlie hopped onto a barstool and rested her chin on her fist, peering at Angel. “What are you doing now?”

“Vaggie asked me the same thing earlier today,” Angel chuckled. “I’m not sure. I’ve worked for Val for so long.”

Charlie hesitated, then asked, “Ever since you got here?”

Angel thought for a moment. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “Pretty much.”

There was some heavy silence. That was about 70 years. 

Angel grinned flirtily. “Although I haven’t always been this much of a hotshot.”

Charlie frowned. She thumped her fist on the bar, startling everyone. “Well, I’m glad you kicked Valentino’s ass,” she declared. She stood regally and swept from the room. 

Husk hummed. “She’s somethin’, alright.”

Angel nodded his agreement. He drained his glass and handed it to Husk. 

~

_Angel: This is out of the blue, but thanks for letting me stay at the hotel even tho I'm a lot of trouble._

_Charlie: Aw Angel!!!!! Of course!! You're always welcome here._

~

Alastor arrived at the hotel in the evening, swinging his microphone stand at his side. 

"Is that a new coat?" Angel asked, giving Alastor a blatant once over. "Your old one _was_ gettin' kind of ratty. Uh, no offense."

Alastor joined him at the bar, vanishing the mic with a wave of his hand. He smoothed the front of his jacket. "None taken. It is why I made this purchase, after all." The new coat was bright crimson with black trim. Angel wasn't sure, but that looked like lace at the collar. "How are you?"

Angel looked at his lap, fiddling with his fingers. "I'm fine." He looked up at Alastor with a grim expression, jabbing a pointer finger in his direction. "I know what you're gonna tell me. And I'm tellin' you _no."_

"Oh really?" Alastor grinned. The ever-present studio audience _ooh_ ed. "What _am_ I going to tell you, Angel?"

Angel scowled. Husk was missing, so he reached over the bar and got himself a drink on his own. "You're gonna tell me I should become the new Valentino," he accused as he searched for the good stuff. Suddenly remembering the contents of the fax he'd sent Alastor, he grabbed a second glass. "And I'm not up to it. So we can go ahead and discuss somethin' else." 

Alastor watched Angel fill two whiskey glasses with a patient smile. "Why aren't you interested?" 

Angel slid Alastor's drink down the bar. Alastor grabbed it and nodded his thanks. "I just." Angel shifted uncomfortably. "I don't want to do Val's job. I didn't like being his employee."

"You're forgetting something critical," Alastor insisted. He leaned forward. _"You_ are not Valentino. In fact, you're quite the opposite! I'd argue that rather than becoming the 'new Valentino', you'd be replacing him entirely." 

Angel rolled his eyes. "That's semantics." 

"Correct." Alastor swirled his drink before taking a sip. "If you mean that we are each saying something totally different." 

Angel studied the wood of the bar determinedly. "I'm not sure I'd do a good job. Running a business."

"Why not?" 

_You'll always be a stupid whore._

"I dunno," said Angel. "Actually, I'll be honest. I don' think I'm _smart_ enough." 

"I think you are." Angel glanced up at Alastor, surprised. "You're certainly capable of more than Valentino gave you credit for. You turned his plans on his head, didn't you?" 

_Yeeeeah,_ Angel thought. Something bloomed in his chest. I _did._

"Yeah." Angel gave a small smile. "Guess so." Suddenly determined, he knocked back his drink and turned to face Alastor. "I don't want the territory."

Alastor's grin was growing. His eyes sparked with audible static. "There's not much. Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Alastor's smile was infectious; Angel felt one sprouting to life on his own face. "Hey, you could manage whatever there is of it. I'm sure you won't mind the addition?" 

"Certainly not!" 

"I can text you for advice, right? I've never run a business." 

"I'm at your disposal, my dear. Within reason," Alastor tacked on with a laugh. 

Angel clasped one pair of hands in front of his face, grinning wildly. He spread his other pair on the bar. "Woah. I was nervous, but...now I'm kinda excited." 

“This is just the beginning for you, darling!” Alastor said grandly and leaned forward. Angel watched breathlessly as the Radio Demon rested his hand on top of Angel’s. 

“Oh,” Angel said, face heating. _HOLYSHIT,_ he thought. “Uh.”

Alastor reeled back a little, but his hand remained where it was. Was he _blushing?_ “Um,” he intoned awkwardly. 

Angel let out a giggle, turning Al’s hand over and lacing their fingers. “What? Never held a gal’s hand before?”

“You are not a _gal,”_ Alastor said, scandalized. “And _of course_ I’ve held hands before.”

“Mmhm,” Angel hummed, gazing at Alastor fondly. “You must like me or somethin’, to add me to that long list of people you’ve held hands with.”

“Maybe,” Alastor began. If Angel wasn’t mistaken, the Radio Demon’s smile was a tad _shy._ “I’d just like to get to know you better.”

Angel’s heart soared. He returned the smile. “I feel the same way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU FOR READING! the kind kudos and comments you guys have given me have made me SO HAPPY. THANK YOU for giving my story a chance.
> 
> some notes: i took some creative liberties with stolas and val. it's not on any wikis as far as I know what powers they have, or if they have any; in helluva boss, stolas is shown with glowing fingers for a hot sec so i decided to interpret that as him having some magic shit. val has only been portrayed as a huge, powerful asshole, so. i kinda assumed he clawed his way to the top with his silver tongue (and probably some firearms). 
> 
> i'm probably gonna go back thru this story and fix some errors or freshen things up, after this. for instance, i totally forgot about fat nuggets lol. after that, maybe a sequel...? maybe from alastor's pov...???? lemme know y'all. 
> 
> <3 thank you!


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